


How everything shines in the morning light

by epersonae



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Cunnilingus, Established Relationship, F/M, Outtake from an unfinished fic, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-21
Updated: 2019-08-21
Packaged: 2020-09-23 02:22:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20332474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/epersonae/pseuds/epersonae
Summary: A moment of pleasure at the beginning of a vacation together.





	How everything shines in the morning light

**Author's Note:**

> I was working on something else and the story led me here, but this isn't appropriate for the rest of the story? So have some mostly context-less porn, I guess. (Actual context: Magnus just arrived at the manor at Bottlenose Cove, Lucretia was already there and said something about needing a shower, one thing led to another, and here we are. For regular readers: this is the vacation after The Reckoning Arrives.)
> 
> Title from [Breakage by Mary Oliver](https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poetrymagazine/poems/41917/breakage), because I am nothing if not predictable.

He drops his bags on the bed in his guest room but follows her to hers, sneaking up behind her to plant a kiss on the back of her neck. She’s pulling the windows shut, but the salt breeze still fills her lungs. She can feel his smile, warm under the scratchy stubble, and she leans back into him. 

“I’m glad you’re here,” she says.

“Me too,” and he wraps his arms around her, pulling her close; she twists around to face him, and his hands slide down to her lower back. 

She murmurs a soft assent, leans in to kiss him, her hands reaching for his face and up into his hair. She’s missed him, and it’s so complicated, once again there’s so much she can’t say. The only comfort is her hands on him, her body pressed close to his, and now she can’t get enough of him, tipping his head to the side so she can kiss down his neck, push open his shirt to mouth at his collarbone. He sucks in a sharp breath.

“Baby, that’s….” And his hands resting on the curve of her ass, he pulls her closer and she can feel him already half hard, just from a little kissing, like they used to do. She starts tugging at his clothes, feeling a wordless heat, the need to simply be their unspoken animal selves. A few buttons undone, and her hands press against his chest, rough hair, layers of muscle and fat, solid, still real, still here, clear as day in the summer light pouring through the tall windows. It is a miracle that never fails to astonish.

She hears a low groan from Magnus, and he’s pulling up her shirt, his wide hands running up her bare back, until she has to stop touching him because he’s pulling at her sleeves. He takes advantage of the pause to lean in and press gentle kisses to the tops of her bare breasts, somewhere between a welcome and a prayer. She finds herself arcing up at the touch of his lips, and he bends to take her nipples in his mouth, first one and then the other, a long flat swipe of the tongue followed by the press of his lips, sucking tenderly, reverently.

“Yes,” she murmurs, hands on his upper arms, greedy for his mouth, wanting to push him to his knees but at the same time wanting this tender adoration of her breasts.

He tips his head sideways, glancing at her, and he’s smiling, that twinkle in his eye that she’s cherished for a hundred years.

“Yes?” he says, and walks her backwards, his hands tucked into the back of her waistband, his eyes on hers, his eyes smiling and hungry and  _ hers. _ Until the backs of her legs bump against the bed, and she gasps, then laughs, and his smile seems to fill his whole face.

“Yes,” she replies, and before he can react, she reaches for the buttons of his pants, popping them open in a single swift motion, but he moves quickly too, one of those roguish moves that tips her from upright to on her back in an instant. She laughs again, feeling the playful spirit bubbling up, kicking along as he pulls off her pajama pants, resting her heels on the edge of the bed.

“I missed you,” she says.

“I bet,” and he gives her a wink as he sinks to his knees at the foot of the bed.

She props herself up on her elbows and looks at him, taking in every bit of him, the laugh lines around the corners of his eyes, the scar that cuts across one brow, the first touches of grey at his temples, the way the curl of his sideburns just draws her eye back to his broad smile. He waggles his tongue at her. “I’m serious,” she says softly.

“I offered for you to come down to the Roost with me,” he said, “but noooo, you had work and stuff.” Even as he chides her, he’s still smiling, and his hands rest light on her thighs, almost but not quite a tickle.

She rolls her eyes. “I’m a fool, obviously.”

“None of that,” he says, and then she gasps as he leans in, his breath hot on her. When she lifts her hips toward him, he scoops one arm under her to lift her to his mouth, pressing a kiss against her pubic mound.

“Mmmm, post-travel snack,” he mumbles into her skin, and she wriggles in his grasp as his facial hair tickles her inner thighs. For a moment it’s just kisses, his warm lips for just a second against clit, cunt, the crease of her thigh. She tries to push harder, her hands flexing in the sheets to get purchase, and then she’s rewarded with a long stroke of his tongue. She lets out a little shuddering gasp, murmurs his name, and he groans, his mouth hot against her. 

“Please,” she whispers.

“Of course, baby,” he says, a low grumble against her cunt, and with his free hand he’s pressing just above her clit so it stands out, pressing his tongue against it. She can feel the strength and restraint balanced so perfectly, the way he laps at her, stroking, sucking, his hands on her so steady and sure. He knows her, knows a thousand thousand ways to take her apart and another thousand to put her back together again.

She’s gasping, caught on the edge of her orgasm, she can feel the wet dripping down the crease of her thigh, feel the heat of his mouth, he gives a long steady lick with the flat of his tongue and she shudders with it. He sucks her clit, and she bites her lip to keep from shrieking.

He glances up, and their eyes meet, and she can’t really see his mouth, but she can see the smile in his eyes. She loves that look, she’s loved it for so long that it seems impossible that there was a time before, that it feels foolish that she was ever without. Her heart is bursting, and he curls his tongue just so, and that’s it, really: her eyes close and her toes curl and she’s coming, she’s coming and it’s absolutely rapturous.

She doesn’t realize that she’s been softly saying his name over and over until she hears him laugh, as he’s gently laying her hips down on the bed. 

“That’s my name,” he says.

“...don’t wear it out,” she adds, before he can say it, though her voice is wobbly.

He eyes her hungrily as he wipes his face with the back of his hand; she scoots back and beckons him forward. For a moment, he just sits on the edge of the bed between her legs; she presses her heel gently into the small of his back.

Now he’s the one looking serious, thoughtful even. He takes a long slow breath. “I’m so glad, oh baby, I’m just glad you’re here….” He rests a hand on her leg, lightly, tenderly. That smile is soft, almost wistful, just as hers turns playful.

“Just going to sit and stare?” she says, running the tips of her toes along his hip. “Or maybe I should go get a shower, now that I’ve got mine.”

“Lucretia!” he says, turning and climbing on all fours onto the bed.

“Yes, Magnus?” her tone is deadpan, but the twitch of a smile gives her away.

He sits back on his heels. “May I?” he asks, a tender formality, and she sits up, first kissing him slowly, tasting herself on his mouth, then reaching down to stroke his cock from half hard to fully erect. He lets out a little breath.

“Yes dear,” she murmurs against his lips, and as she lays back he follows her down, kissing the column of her throat, kissing her collarbone, and then back up along her jaw to nibble at her earlobe. She’s chuckling as he slides in with one smooth practiced motion and a heavy satisfied sigh, and her laugh dissolves into a ragged moan. 

“Yes dear,” she says again, her eyes on him as he thrusts. She wraps her legs around him, and it’s ordinary and familiar, and endlessly precious, his arms on either side of her, his head bowed to hers. He fills her, she thrills at the slide of him thick inside of her, she arcs for more just as he presses into her. He’s breathing heavily, and she reaches up to brush the hair from his sweaty brow. She whispers his name, and he groans.

There’s something pleading in the way he says her name in response, lustful but so tender, and when she looks at his face again there’s tears in the corners of his eyes.

“You’re so good, my love,” she says, and he whines, his eyes almost rolling back when he comes, his hands white-knuckled in the sheets on either side of her.

He rolls off of her, flops on the bed beside her, his head lolling back on the pillows. “Gods, Luce….” And then the only sound in the room is their breathing. (Somewhere in the distance, a sea bird cries as it wheels back in from the open ocean.) He turns back toward her, planting a noisy kiss on her cheek. She presses a hand to his chest, feeling the rise and fall of his breath, the thrumming of his heart.

“Ugh, I’m sweaty,” he says. “Warmer this far south.”

“Mmmmhm. So much warmer.”

“Shut up, it is.” He flicks her nose. She grabs his fingertips and kisses them, and he makes a little huff, barely more than an exhale.

“Well it’s good we’re here to get a shower then,” she replies with a wink.

“Yup, totally, shower, yeah, yeah.” He takes a deep breath and his eyes drift shut. Still with his eyes closed, he says, “Or I could take a nap. Long journey, you know, going to the moon and back.”

She laughs, getting out of bed and pulling at his hands until he gets up too. “We can nap later. I want to go down to the beach.”

“Oooh, right, beach! Got my favorite shorts!” He dashes into the bathroom ahead of her. “Shower and then yeah, beach!”

She winces, realizing that means cargo shorts, but also smiles, watching him as he gets the water hot, then stands in the doorway looking back at her. Sunlight filters through the thin curtains, and for a second it’s as if he glows in the morning light.

“Come on,” he says. “It’s ready for you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, astute readers of The Only Life You Could Save, this _does_ mean that we are working on a follow-up. It's just........a lot. And life has been A Lot, and we'll get there, honest.


End file.
